Voidhawk: The Elder Race

by Jason Halstead

  She opened her door and looked about. On her left lay the bridge and the helm. To the right, the spiral staircase that led up to the main deck. Further aft along the companionway were the twin holds, the galley, other cabins and the crew quarters, as well as another staircase to the main deck. Nothing was wrong to the eye, but still she felt the wrongness of the night.

  Bailynn would be in the crew quarters, but Willa had the midnight watch, so she would be on the deck. Jodyne would be in her quarters, right next to her own. Bekka considered waking the dwarven cook, but she paused to smile at the scowl she might receive, especially if her hunch was wrong. Still, she supposed it was better safe than sorry, and there might well be more at stake than her pride.

  She paused, hand raised, and then decided to try the latch instead. It opened quietly, a testimony to the craftsmanship Kragor had put into the ship as well as the care that Willa maintained in the day to day maintenance of the Voidhawk. Inside she heard a startled gasp. Bekka’s eyes narrowed, suspicious again, and spoke in a whisper to announce her pending intrusion.

  She pushed the door open further and saw the squinted eyes of Jodyne, though what first drew her gaze was the weighted throwing knife she had cocked back in her hand. Bekka nodded, acknowledging how Jodyne could have put a messy but quick end to her. There was none finer at throwing knives, axes, or the occasional pot or pan, than the Voidhawk’s cook. Her late husband, Kragor, was quickest to boast of her skills, and likewise show fear of those same skills.

  “Something’s amiss,” Bekka whispered, then stopped, realizing she had no idea of what else to say.

  “What’s your bother?” Jodyne asked, her voice gruff from sleep.

  Bekka frowned, then shrugged. “I don’t know… something just feels off. Bad, I think.”

  “You’re for waking me up because you’ve got a flutter in your belly?” Jodyne asked her.

  The dwarf’s tone was as harsh as her words, but the clear and serious focus of her eyes gave Bekka the courage to push forward. “Aye, it’s more than just gas.”

  Jodyne smirked and threw back the covers of her bed, then rolled out of the mattress. She reached under the already short legged bed and pulled out a shirt sewn of leather and padding, with metal bits riveted into it for protection. She slipped it quickly over her nightgown. She accessorized by wrapping a belt loaded full of knives across her waist then up and over her shoulder like a bandolier.

  “I don’t know that it’s that serious,” Bekka said, eyeing the dozens of projectiles.

  “I’m not one for betting against women’s intuition,” Jodyne answered with a wink.

  Feeling relieved at the support of the cook, Bekka smiled and turned away, heading towards the stairway up. Of course, if she was wrong, she’d feel even more foolish because of that same support.

  They climbed up slowly, stepping onto the deck only after carefully looking around and making sure nothing was amiss. Not only was nothing amiss, but Bekka guessed the time to be near midnight, and there was no sign of Willa.

  Bekka took a deep breath, tasting the air as much as she was focusing on feeling their surroundings. It felt wrong still. There was no sign of Willa, no warmth of her passing nor any scent of her. It was as if she had disappeared, yet she’d claimed to be unable to swim and shore was yet some distance away.

  Bekka started when Jodyne touched her arm. Her trepidation increased, yet she felt more the fool for letting the cook surprise her. She moved forward, heading up to stairs to the fore deck and. It was not so high as the stern deck, but it gave her a clearer view of the shore and the village.

  At the edge of the deck Bekka saw nothing of concern. The shore was deserted, save for the makeshift raft they’d pulled onto the sand. Of course the light granted them by the stars and the full moon only now cresting the horizon didn’t allow for the greatest of vision.

  “Willa?” Jodyne asked, her voice hushed.

  “I don’t know,” Bekka said. “Would she have risked the swim to shore to go after them?”

  Jodyne frowned, then shrugged. She popped her knuckles and peered over the edge, then stumbled back quickly. Alarmed by her action, Bekka looked over the side and stared, trying to make out what could have disturbed the dwarven woman so much.

  “Something swam under us,” Jodyne hissed, looking again. “Saw me a shadow, I did.”

  “It’s a big lake, there’s bound to be fish in it. Tomorrow let’s see if we can fashion a net and catch some?” Bekka offered.

  “Don’t be daft,” Jodyne snapped. “I’m not on about a fish. Wasn’t no fish I was seeing, it was… something else.”

  Bekka looked again, staring deeply. She squinted her eyes, trying to help, and then decided that enough was enough. She cast about, looking for something. Then her eyes fell on Jodyne’s bandolier of knives.

  “Jodyne, are those dear to you?” She asked.

  “Just knives,” Jodyne said, shrugging. “Why?”

  “May I have one?”

  Jodyne shrugged and pulled one out of the quick release straps. She handed it to Bekka, who in turn focused on it as she held it at arm’s length. Finally, after a brief moment and some whispered words, it began to glow. Dimly at first, then brighter and brighter with each passing moment until it cast off light enough to rival that of any torch.

  Bekka turned back to the rail and, without ceremony, dropped it over the side. Jodyne gasped, surprised, then hurried to her side so they could watch the glowing dagger sink in the water. It revealed several swimming shapes, shapes that no fish had ever laid claim to.

  “Told you it wasn’t no fish,” Jodyne muttered.

  Bekka straightened and turned. The shapes they’d seen were almost humanoid, though they moved in ways no human, elf, or dwarf ever would. She leaned against the railing and gasped anew, in time to alert Jodyne to turn around. Before the dwarf could finish drawing her knife and spin the first of three weighted nets landed upon them. They were wet and smelled of the lake, but the slippery cords of the netting proved strong enough to prevent tearing.

  Figures advanced, walking awkwardly on the decking towards them. Bekka blinked, fascinated and terrified at the same time. They looked like a cross between a man and a frog, with emphasis on the large mouths and frog like faces. Their skin was mottled, some greys and browns, others green. A few carried bones with jagged points, others shells with jagged edges for blades.

  * * * *

  Insects the size of small birds buzzed through the makeshift clearing. In the midst of it, being butchered by natives with flint bladed knives, lay the massive beast that had crashed through the jungle. It seemed to be part ape, though three times the size of a man. Its head was that of a lizard, with razor edged teeth to match. It boasted a tail as well, short enough for balance but covered in thickly scarred hide that showed it served as a weapon as well.

  “What in the void is that?” Rosh asked, staring at it from where he had come to a stop.

  The leader of the hunting party looked to Rosh and grinned. He held up his spear triumphantly and then pointed at the fallen creature. He spoke a word none of them understood, then repeated it when he saw the confusion on their faces.

  “Barbatoo?” Dexter asked.

  The native grinned and thumped his chest with his fist. Another native emerged from the forest. He was carrying the body of the snake. He walked to Rosh and bowed his head, then dropped it to the ground before him.

  “What am I s’pose to do with this?” Rosh asked, looking at Logan, Xander, and Dexter.

  In answer, the war-leader stepped up to the dead barbatoo and slammed his stone-headed spear into its chest. He sawed at it, opening a great gash between ribs, then thrust his hand into the enormous cavern within. He tugged several times until, at last, he pulled forth the dripping heart from the beast. He held it up in the air triumphantly, to the raucous cheers of the other natives, then brought it to his mouth and bit deeply into it.

  “Gods!” Xander whispered, then coughed as he fo
ught the urge to retch onto one of the trees that the death throes of the barbatoo had felled.

  “I think it’s your turn,” Dexter said under his breath. “You said you were hungry.”

  Rosh grunted and looked down at the snake. “Ain’t that hungry,” he muttered.

  The chieftain raised the heart again and grinned, his dark lips stained darker still with the blood of the fallen beast. He turned to Rosh and pointed with his spear at the snake.

  “Might not be the best time to show them how civilized you are,” Logan offered.

  Rosh glanced at the priest, the scowl on his face unmistakable. He looked back at the snake and took a deep breath, then knelt down and drew his dagger out. He ran it along the length of the belly, eviscerating the serpent cleanly and releasing its still warm guts onto the jungle floor. He felt as much as looked for the heart and, after a few minutes of immersing his arms in gore, he ripped it free.

  Rosh stood up, holding the heart out and staring at it. The natives cheered him encouragingly. Dexter heard Xander cough raggedly again and turned in time to see the wizard turn away. Another time, perhaps, and he might have smiled in amusement. Another time when their own hide wasn’t on the line. Instead Dexter turned to stare with earnest focus at the warrior. Rosh took a deep breath and, not breaking the stony expression on his face, brought the steamy treat to his mouth. He tore away a chunk of the muscle and chewed it as briefly as possible, then swallowed it roughly, his eyes nearly bulging as he did so.

  The natives cheered and many came forward to clap him on the back or the arms. Rosh was quickly separated from the others by the black skinned people, but they seemed to have little more than adulation in mind. In short the celebrations relaxed and they returned to tending their kill while Rosh returned to Dexter.

  “Just can’t help being a hero, can you?” Dexter needled him.

  “Jealous?” Rosh asked with a scowl.

  “Just the other day I was telling Jenna how I ached to have me a piece of fresh snake heart.”

  Jenna laughed, which drew a glare from Rosh. He let the glare fade after a moment, then he shrugged. “Took the edge off,” he admitted.

  “Bound to make Jodyne’s job easier,” Dexter added.

  Before Rosh could answer the leader of the natives approached them again. He seemed uncertain who to address, either Rosh or Dexter, so he spoke to them both. Of course he might as well have been trying to discuss the inner workings of a water clock for all they knew.

  “I think he wants us to follow him,” Xander offered, now that he was recovered from his bought with nausea.

  “You understand them?” Dexter asked.

  Xander shook his head. “No, but I’m good with languages. Measure the patterns of certain sounds and phrases and you start to pick out possible words. That and what his body is telling us, I think he wants to take us back with him.”

  “We guests or…”

  “Still got our guns,” Rosh pointed out.

  Dexter nodded, his question answered. “Alright, let’s go. Xander, keep learning. See if you can find out anything about the elven city. We only got another day and a half.”

  “What happens then?” Logan asked, though Xander, Rosh, and Jenna had all been ready to follow up with the question as well.

  “They wasn’t sure, either we’d be stuck out of phase or we’d switch back and there’d be nothing where we was,” Dexter said.

  Curses and other soft exclamations followed, then a suddenly renewed interest. Dexter turned back to the native and nodded his head enthusiastically, then motioned for him to lead the way. The native smiled and nodded back, then turned and headed off into the jungle. The other natives fell in around them, their positions both protective as well as potentially imprisoning. Dexter tried not to consider that possibility, and instead wondered what they might find at the end of their journey.

  * * * *

  Dinner, much to Rosh’s satisfaction, was roasted barbatoo. It was accompanied with multiple side dishes of questionable nature, from mysterious mushrooms to some yellow skinned fruits and greenish blue roots. It was simple fare, but they ate well and happily accepted seconds.

  The tribe of natives was nearly three times the size of the hunting party and included many children of varying ages. They stared at the crew of the Voidhawk in awe, a few even being so bold as to come out and touch the white skinned strangers.

  As dinner began to wind down the natives cleared things away and set up a strange dance. Men and women arranged themselves in positions in the midst of a ring of strategically placed campfires, then began to dance when unseen drums were beaten rhythmically.

  The war leader, who Xander had explained was the chieftain’s son, was explaining the ritual to them far too rapidly for any of them to follow. Xander focused and held up his hand a few times, experimentally repeating words and drawing either an excited gesture from the native, or polite laughter at his misunderstanding. Soon enough the well orchestrated and performed dance was over and a burning brand was taken from each of the fires and used to light torches spread evenly around the camp.

  “Well?” Dexter asked his wizard.

  “Captain, I know less now than I did before,” Xander burst out, clearly at a loss. “Something about demons, I think. Jungle demons, perhaps? The dancing keeps them away? I have no idea.”

  Dexter grunted and turned to the others, hoping for feedback.

  “Demons or just animals? We’ve seen a few things that appear interested in eating anything smaller than them. They light the edge of the camp so they can see anything that emerges from the jungle,” Logan said. “I see no cause for spiritual angst, they are just primitive people who believe in spirits.”

  “There a problem with that?” Jenna asked, surprising Dexter with her sudden defense of the natives. “Every one’s got a right to believe in what they want to, don’t they?”

  Logan stared at her then nodded and smiled. “Indeed they do. Simple spirits are seldom empowered to grant prayers is all. They have some ways to come in their understanding of faith and-“

  “Thought priests was s’posed to know what faith was?” Rosh grumbled, then stood up and headed off to try and refill the sweet ale the natives had offered them.

  Logan looked around, his mouth open in surprised protest. Dexter shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t look at me, as long as I got the ‘Hawk sailing and a crew to do what I tells them, I got all the faith I need or want.”

  “Or a man who you know will stand at your side,” Jenna said with a wink at Dexter that made him scowl and blush, all at once.

  Logan stared at them, ready to disagree, then he suddenly was hit with a coughing fit. He looked around briefly, his eyes wild and savage, then he shook his head and looked himself again. His hand went to his throat and he gently touched the holy symbol on the leather cord that hung from his neck.

  “You all right?” Dexter asked?

  Logan nodded quickly. “Yes… I just… it’s been a long day, I need to rest, I think. The heat is getting to me.”

  “Acaros was hot like this, maybe worse?” Dexter pointed out.

  “Dry heat,” Logan said with a weak grin. “Captain, if you’ll excuse me?”

  Dexter nodded and the priest was gone. He hurried over to the huts they had been offered. The families that had stayed in them had moved out for the time being, insisting that the Voidhawk’s crew take them. Moments later the makeshift thatch door shut and, Dexter was certain, something heavy was pushed against it.

  “What’s he up to?” Dexter wondered aloud.

  Jenna shook her head, staring inquisitively as well. Rosh took that moment to return, his cup freshly filled.

  “Can’t seem to drink enough to enjoy it anymore,” he grumbled, draining half the beverage in a single pull. “Damn elves cursed me.”

  “You were happy enough when your ribs were popping back into place,” Dexter reminded him. It had been impossible, the way he’d healed from that snake’s constriction,
but Logan had assured them all that he heard and felt the bones in Rosh’s chest reshape themselves and return to their proper place and health.

  Rosh shrugged and said nothing, instead dropping into his own brooding thoughts.

  Dexter turned to Xander, more concerned with their current situation than the moody warrior or the unpredictable priest. He glanced at the sky and saw the sun was below the mountains to the west and, he wagered, near to setting.

  “Wizard, see if you can’t talk to them and find out if they know about that city in the mountains,” he ordered.

  Xander frowned. “I don’t know if I can. I’ll try, but I barely know how to ask if gold or lead dust should be used when inscribing a rune of protection!”

  Dexter stared at the wizard, wondering what he was talking about and why it mattered. The quickly fading grin on the man’s face tipped the Captain off that Xander had just attempted a joke. A joke that, unfortunately for him, was anything but funny.

  “Captain, you mind if we take a little extra time here?” Rosh asked, breaking the awkward silence. “I’m thinking the bookworm here needs to spend some time getting cozy with one of these native girls.”

  That joke broke appreciable laughs, although it colored Xander’s face red with embarrassment. Rosh followed his statement by openly ogling a couple of the dark skinned women who were walking nearby. With only skirts or loincloths, it was an easy thing for him to do.

  “What about Willa?” Jenna asked rather sharply after she tossed a stick at him as punishment.

  Rosh shrugged, ignoring the stick. Xander stood up; choosing that moment to diffuse what may have become another awkward situation. “I’ll see if I can find anything out,” he told Dexter.

  “Wait, I’ll come with you,” Jenna offered, rising smoothly to her own feet and tagging along with the wizard.